“I always strive to see the humanity in others, even people who don’t see mine.”. I suppose it’s no real wonder that I first met Chris Stedman, a writer and community organizer who describes himself as “Very Online,” the same way most of us met anyone in 2020—on the Internet. Toward the start of the year I followed him on Twitter, and found his posts to be a needed respite. Stuck in my conservative family household, I’d often retreat to Stedman’s timeline, where a heady blend of socialist memes, Queer Discourse, and tributes to Britney Spears awaited me. Among these shards of humor and pop culture were moments of brave vulnerability: wordless memoria to his beloved dog Tuna, who went viral back in February as an avid Bernie Sanders supporter, and who suddenly, unexpectedly passed away on July 24th, 2020. Later, I’d discover that this effortless vacillation between irony and authenticity within his online persona is echoed in the prose of Stedman’s published works, which I read over a lonesome autumn.